


headspace | 방찬

by kenziexxmars



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, Chan, Chris Bang - Freeform, Christopher Bang - Freeform, Fluff, Gen, Headspace, Kids, Mars, Mars Writes Things, Oneshot, Stay, Stray, bang chan - Freeform, chan oneshot, stray kids - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:09:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23061484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenziexxmars/pseuds/kenziexxmars
Summary: in which mars clears her headspace
Kudos: 3





	headspace | 방찬

➛ **member(s):** _bang chan_  
➛ **genre:** _angst_  
➛ **pairing:** _n/a_  
➛ **word count:** _1.2k_  
➛ **date written:** _january 23rd, 2020_

➛ **prompt:** _me being a spaz -- we stan_

\---

Everyone has their own headspace, whether they are aware of it or not. A place in their consciousness where they are authentically themselves, no environmental or social influences to dictate their behavior or thoughts that went on in this space. Raw, true emotions are felt in this space, which is terrifying for some and liberating for others. There was no mask to hide behind, no inhibitors to prevent thoughts from flooding in like a tsunami.

Her headspace was mostly blank, the kind of never ending white void one imagines when they construct the concept of the phrase “nothingness.”

All was bland, except for a young man that inhabited the area. He wasn’t there throughout her whole life, but to the girl it felt like he was someone as familiar to her as herself. He’d only appeared a few years ago, roughly around the time she was made aware of his existence. He wasn’t as prominent of a figure then as he is now. The more that she learned about him in her real life, the more vibrant and vivid he became in her headspace.

Today he was wearing pants that matched the shade of a freshly picked pumpkin on a blustery autumn day. His shoes were of the athletic type, which the girl thought was weirdly contrasted given the rest of his attire but somehow fit. His sweater was black and baggy, with a graphic on the front that the girl struggled to make sense of. A messy-yet-casual hairstyle was showcased via the natural dark color that he’d dyed his hair. Subtle yet attractive makeup was noticeable, and he sported the eyebrow slit that she loved dearly.

She stood at a distance, patiently waiting for his attention to shift over to her. He was sitting at a school desk; his trusty laptop carefully balanced on the small space. The young man was leaning over so much that it looked like his nose would brush the screen if he moved even in the slightest. The soft glow of the screen on his pale skin highlighted his high cheekbones.

This version of him sitting before her was one that was created recently. It was as if she’d plucked him out of the most recent music video he’d starred in, and captured him in her headspace.

She took a hesitant step forward, and immediately he snapped his attention to her. “Well hello there love,” Chan slid the over-ear headset he was wearing down to around his neck. “How was your day?”

The girl didn’t say a word. Her gaze slipped from him to the floor. Her blank expression paralleled the space around them. She let out a small sigh before mumbling, “It was normal.” A tear dropped from her round face to the top of her shoe, and she watched as they continued to pool at the toe of the footwear.

A few moments of rustling occupied the silence. Before she knew it he was right in front of her, his white and black sneakers and brightly colored pants taking place of the white space she’d been fixated on. Chan’s light cologne filled her with a sense of comfort, but that emotion was soon snuffed and replaced with the numbness that had become her norm.

He crouched down, forcing her to make eye contact with him. “Kenzie,” his voice was hushed, as if a crowd surrounded them and he didn’t want them to overhear. “I can’t just sit back and watch you come to me like this every day.” He grabbed her hand, flinching at how cold her usually clammy hands were. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

She stared at their intertwined hands. His grip was firm, but not too strong. They both had rings scattered on each hand, and she noticed how the neon orange nail polish color her best friend had let her borrow popped against their pale complexion. “I-” her voice was shaky, heartbeat jumping to her throat. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Empathy. That was one of the many reasons she was drawn to Chan. He had a knack for being able to put himself in someone else’s shoes. To feel what others felt. This made him a great leader, assisted in the advice he would give and write music that touched the hearts of many. However, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips formed a pout. It was hard to be empathetic when the person themselves didn’t realize what was going on.

“I’m not quite sure I understand what you mean,” his tone was soft and inviting. He used his free hand to brush a tear from her cheek. “You’re crying, did something upset you?”

She shrugged.

He squeezed her hand and moved to sit cross legged in front of her. “Is it something to do with school?”

She shook her head no.

“Are the people at work being rude again?”

Another shrug.

“Things at home are still rough?”

Still no real response. 

“Well baby I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on.” He squeezed her hand again as her eyes darted to his.

A moment of silence passed between the two, before he gestured that she sit on the ground with him. Now their knees touched, sitting cross legged as close as they possibly could. “That’s the problem,” she whispered. Her gaze found his, and she held it steadily. “Chan, I… I wish I knew what was wrong.”

Confusion flashed on his features once more. His reaction was a stark contrast from others in her life, who became frustrated when she couldn’t come up with a reason. “I can’t pin down an exact explanation. I’m just… sad I guess.”

He pulled her into a hug and she squeaked. It was sudden and threw her off guard. Something inside her broke again, and she clutched the fabric of his sweater, clinging to the thin material like it was her last source of sanity. She sobbed into his shoulder, her entire body shaking with emotion. Chan scooped her up into his arms, settling her onto his lap. She snuggled into him, still overcome with feelings she couldn’t trace the origin on.

He planted a soft kiss into her hair, brushing his fingers through the long, tangled strands. He racked his brain on ways to help her feel better. Unfortunately, nothing came to him. After all, how can you help solve the problem when you don’t know what it is in the first place?

Out of all the confusion, all the jumbled emotions, and all the sadness she’d been feeling recently, there was one thought that clearly pierced through her mind at that moment. She leaned back, staring into the eyes of a virtual stranger, and said, “I know one thing though. You’re my inspiration, Chan, and I owe you for that.”

He started to fade away, the same way he always did when she was pulled out of her headspace. The warmth of his closeness slowly diminished and the harsh cold of loneliness chilled her to her core. She flicked her eyes open, feeling the familiar sting of tiredness. “Thank you,” she whispered aloud, as a single tear made its way down the teartracks that stained her cheeks.

One day, she’d be able to tell him this for real.

One day, she’d stop feeling this way.

One day, this would all be a distant memory that she could reflect on. That she could use to measure how she’d grown as a person, and how she got out of that rut of a mindset.

But that day was not today, and for the first time in a long time, she smiled.

\-----★-----☆


End file.
